Crossfire
by PikaScootaloo
Summary: He was her dream. He was her nightmare. And she was caught in the crossfire.


_"Zoey_

_Meet me at the park tonight._

_With Love_

_Mike"_

She sighed, her hands idly tapping the wooden table. Just where was he? She had been waiting since dusk, and he still wasn't there. It must've been an hour until the sun would rise! Surely he didn't expect her to wait all night, right?

No, she had to face facts. She _had_ been here all night, that was painfully obvious. And she could've left at any point. But no. She chose to stay, because Mike was expecting her. But did _she_ expect _him?_

"Where are you?" she sighed, fighting the urge to close her drooping eyes. Was he really going to show up? Maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he _couldn't..._

Her eyes shot open, the drowsiness being pushed aside for her worries. What if something happened to him? What if he was on his way, but then he got in a car accident, or in a biking accident, or just an accident?!

She shook her shaking head, fighting to get the worst case scenarios out of her mind. No, thinking about it wouldn't help. He was fine. Totally fine.

But he still wasn't here...

She stood up, walking hastily away from the empty park and towards his house.

It couldn't hurt to check.

...Right?

* * *

><p>Since the park wasn't all that far from Mike's house, it was relatively easy for her to walk there. A few minutes later, she was standing in front of the front door, and it was obvious that all the lights were off...<p>

She couldn't just knock on the door and wake his parents up. That'd be rude! Not to mention they'd probably shoo her away due to them being cranky from their sleep.

Her eyes glanced over to the window to Mike's room, all the way up on the second floor. Luckily, the pipe than ran up to the roof gutters went right next to the window. With that easy a path, it was effortless for Zoey to climb it and get to the window.

Peering inside, she was surprised to see just how dark it was. Usually he had something on or a door open. Why change now?

Her worries overriding her sense of privacy, she silently opened the window and snuck her way inside. She inched over to his bed, and as she got closer and closer, she came to the anvil-dropped-heavy conclusion.

"He's not there."

But it wasn't Zoey who said it. It was a voice behind her, a voice she knew all too well.

"...What are you doing here?" she asked slowly, her teeth gritted, not even bothering to turn around.

His deep, gravelly, reverberating voice oozed of mock offense. "Why, I'm shocked. I thought I'd get a warmer welcome than that."

_"What are you doing here?"_ she repeated, her tone gaining an edge.

"This _does_ happen to be my room."

"No, this is _Mike's_ room," she snarled, whirling around to face him and poke a pointy finger to his chest. "And _you_ have no business in being here, _Mal."_ She didn't even bother to hide her contempt at the alter's name.

Mal smirked. "Then neither do you. Predictable, by the way."

Her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Coming here straight away once you felt that he wouldn't show up. Just can't stay away from him, can you?"

"I thought he was in trouble!" she spluttered, letting her guard down for a fraction of a second. Then her eyes went steely, scornful of Mal. "And I was right to think that."

"Seriously, you'd think I'd get a warmer welcome."

"You're evil!"

"At least I'm not trying to kill you... Yet."

At his almost playful tone, it was then that Zoey realized that it was all a game to him. He was toying with her, distracting her from the real picture. "You're not supposed to be here. Mike _defeated_ you."

"Oh, did he?"

_"Yes."_

He scowled. "He didn't defeat me. That stupid ingrate just locked me away. Again."

"That's impossible. Mike told me you disappeared. For good."

"Yeah, well, he's an idiot. I've always been here, and I'll always stay here. No stupid reset button can change that."

"It got rid of the others. Why should _you_ be any different?"

His low chuckle echoed about, unnerving her, though not enough to make her show it. "Oh, Zoey. I _am_ different. They were simply parts of Mike that couldn't survive on their own. Funny, really. For a man with multiple personalities, Mike doesn't have one. Not even when they're merged into him."

"That's a lie!" Zoey said. "Mike is amazing! He's more of a man than you'll ever be!"

For a fraction of a second, he visibly winced. It really had struck a nerve. But just as quickly, he masked it in a scowl, though it didn't fool Zoey. "He's more of a man than someone who's him. Yeah, _that_ makes sense."

"You're not Mike," she said simply, though those three words held scorn strong enough to kill a man.

"Aren't I?" he smirked, happy to have struck a nerve the same she had done to him. "Physically, we're alike in everyway. We're just two sides of the same coin, and it goes as simply as this; Heads I win, tails he loses."

Zoey growled. _"You_ are a monster."

"Yes," he said, and then leaned over so that his lips were mere centimeters away from her ear. In an unearthly hiss of a whisper, he said, "And I'm him."

She forced herself not to draw in a gasp or shudder. Instead, she managed to keep her gaze neutral, never once looking away from him even after he moved away from her.

"Let me talk to Mike," she said, no longer afraid, but rather determined.

"Ah, but you are."

"You know darn well what I mean!" she snapped. "I want to talk to Mike, _now."_

He raised an eyebrow, though within a second, Mal conceded. He gasped, and suddenly his hair went up. "Zoey?"

Her heart fluttered upon hearing Mike speak, but that was shot down to her gut as she studied his eyes. No. They were most definitely not Mike's. "You're not fooling me, Mal. I want Mike, and I want him now."

He scowled, letting his hair fall back down. "Just what makes you think I'm actually going to?"

"Because I could scream right now, and then Mike's parents would come up here and see you, and then they'd know you're back."

His eyes narrowed. "You're a pest, aren't you? Fine." He gasped once more, and his hair shot up again. This time, though, the bags under his eyes faded, and confusion and drowsiness took its place.

"Zoey? What time is it?" he asked groggily.

Zoey narrowed her eyes slightly, still on guard in case Mal took control suddenly. "Mike, what's the last thing you remember?"

"Falling asleep... why are you in my bedroom? Not that I don't want you in here! I mean, you can always come in my bedroom! Agh, that came out wrong!"

This was definitely Mike. She threw her arms around him, giving him a big hug and burying her head in his chest. "Oh, Mike! Thank goodness! I have so much to tell you! Mal is back!"

He gasped.

"I know! I thought he was gone for good! But don't worry; he left once. We can make him leave again!"

Suddenly, a cold, pointy object pressed up on Zoey's throat, just light enough to not pierce the skin. Her stomach dropped once she heard that deep chuckle she so hated.

"Lesson number one; never bring your body to a knife fight."

She didn't speak.

"Now stop fondling me."

Zoey's shaky body moved back, Mal's knife hand following. She gave him the nastiest of glares as she inwardly chided herself. Letting Mike out for long enough to apprehend Zoey was a completely Mal thing to do, and she walked right into it.

"Move."

"..."

He kicked the bedroom door open. "Now."

"And if I don't?"

"Seriously? I have a knife to your throat."

"That still doesn't prevent me from screaming long enough to get Mike's parents' attention."

"And yet that's plenty enough time to slit your throat and let Mike take control. Would you want him to face the eternal guilt of believng he killed the only person that loved him, as well as life behind bars?"

"...Where to?" she sighed dejectedly.

"Now where do you think?"

Silently, she made her way out of the room and out of the house, Mal's knife still threatening. She stopped on the concrete. "Where now?"

He jerk the knife to the direction of the park, and so she walked, her movements choppy, like an automaton. Every step she took was pure torture, and if it weren't for the knife, she would've bolted then and there.

...Could she still do that?

Mal's knife hand jerked, almost as if he knew just what she was thinking. She growled, which eventually turned into a silent whimper.

Eons passed, but they finally reached the park, which was still barren despite the sun on the verge of rising.

"We're here," Zoey said softly. "Put the knife down."

Amazingly, he did. He still kept it close to his body, though.

"Why are we here?"

"To have fun," he said simply. "And possibly destroy your entire view of the world. Night's still young."

"You're... not going to kill me?"

"Again, night's still young." Upon seeing Zoey's horrified expression, he gave an annoyed scowl. "This isn't all about you, honey. I'm here to have fun. You're collatoral damage at best."

"What? Why'd you bring me here then?"

"I wasn't about to let you stay in my room," he scoffed.

At that, the still-burning fire flared within her gut. "It's Mike's room! Not yours, you-you weasel!"

"Ooh, weasel. Such a scary insult." he mocked, taking out a spray paint bottle. "Now stay put at that table. Unless you care to help with this, don't move, or you _will_ feel the wrath of my knife, even yards away."

"I doubt you're _that_ good a shot."

As if he'd been waiting for a challenge like that, he took out the knife and bent it so that it'd look more like a boomerang. With one clean swipe, he hurled the weapon, it spinning as it made its way to a tree.

_Shwip!_

The moment the knife returned was when the tree branch plummeted to the ground, a mere foot away from Zoey, who shrieked in shock.

Mal raised his eyebrow, almost as if to say, _'Doubt gone?'._

Reluctantly, she nodded.

Pocketing his knife (showing an odd rounded bulge in his pocket, despite the knife being lerfectly straight), Mal left to vandalize buildings, though Zoey could swear he had his eyes on her, studying every move she made. Groaning, she sat down at the same spot she was at an hour ago.

She sighed. This was a disaster. Mal was wreaking havoc (as much havoc as could be made in a small town park, at any rate), and Zoey could do absolutely nothing. The only thing she could do was to just wait it out, hoping that Mike would take back control sometime soon. It would be soon, right? Mal was usually out during the night, at least during the competition. Daylight wasn't too far away.

Right on cue, a strand of light made its way to Zoey's vision, causing her to squint and reel back slightly. Then... It stopped? She opened her eyes, and instead of seeing a blinding light, she saw a blue torso, darkened by the lack of light. For a brief moment, she thought it was Mike. But for the umpteenth time that day, her spirits sank when she heard Mal's voice.

"Get up," he ordered.

She gave a striking glare.

"I have a knife, you know," he reminded her. "You really shouldn't test my patience."_  
><em>

"Why?" she snarled.

Mal smirked, an expression that irked Zoey to no end. "I want to show you something."

She gave a steady glare, deciding whether or not to actually follow him. After all, he had a _knife _on him. He was probably planning to attack her where no one could see. Then again, if she didn't move, then she really would be on the receiving end of that knife. And Mal might not let Mike have control...

Zoey stood up, ultimately deciding on humoring him. "Fine. Show me."

He led her to the back end of an abandoned shack, it's decaying structure causing people to keep their distance. It seemed to be an ideal place for troublemaking, at any rate. And that trouble making was, apparently, grafitti. Spray painted on the wall was a throne chair, at the end of a hall from a castle. Outside of a painted window was a painted... mountain?

He gave a glance to Zoey, his expression making clear that he wanted her input, and that if it wasn't good, there'd be hell to pay.

"It's... Nice," she said hesitantly. "That doesn't look like something you could make in ten minutes though."

"Oh really?" he smirked, tossing a paint can to Zoey. "Let's see you do better."

She let the can drop to the ground. "No thank you. Playtime's over, Mal, it's time to give Mike back."

Mal gave the most amused of grins, making it even more evident that he was just toying with her. Or maybe he was so amused with what she said...? "Nah, I don't think so."

"...what?"

He bent down to pick up the spray paint. "You heard me."

As he started putting the finishing touches in his throne room, Zoey found herself unable to form a coherent sentence. "But you—I don't—It's daytime!"

"Thanks, Captain Obvious."

"Mike should have control back!" Zoey continued. "He always does!"

He gave a curious glance to Zoey, her words finally causing him interest. Tossing the spray can to the ground, he turned to face her. "What makes you think he should?"

Those words felt like a challenge to her. Taking a deep breathe, she said slowly, "You're an _alter. Mike_ is the owner of that body, _not you._"

"Really?" he arched one eyebrow up... amused?

"Yes," she said through gritted teeth.

"If I'm an alter, _then what's my trigger?"_

The intensity of those words caused Zoey to stumble back. "Wh-What do you mean?" she asked, though an awful thought rose within her, one she wanted so desperately to be false.

"Chester's was frustration. Svetlana's was athletics. Vito's was taking off a shirt. Manitoba's was putting on a hat. If _all those things _caused them to appear, and I don't have any, _then what am I?"_

Zoey swallowed a dry lump in her mouth, struggling to answer. "I—I don't—" She grasped to a coherent thought. "M–Mike doesn't have one either!"

"Au contrare," he said, wiggling a taunting finger. "There's one thing in this world that Mike cares about so desperately, he'll go to the ends of the earth for it."

The confirmation felt like an anvil dropped into her stomach. In one shaky breathe, she whispered, _"...Me."_

"You say this is Mike's body," he continued, "but the truth is, we're fighting for it every day. _Every. Single_. _Day."_

"...Every day?" she squeaked out.

Mal gave the most sadistic of grins. "Every day."

She found herself tremoring, her hands refusing to stay still, her knees endlessly wobbling. "He-He's not an alter. _He's not._"

"Not right now," he shrugged, "But it's only a matter of time. And we have _you _to thank for it.

It was too much for her. The thought that she would possibly be responsible for Mike ceasing control was just too horrible. They were both fighting, endlessly, and she hadn't even realized it. Because of her, Mike might lose. But...

"You're _wrong,_" she whispered, just barely able to move her lips. "Mike won't lose. I _know_ he won't. Because if he cares so much about me, then he must care about this life, doesn't he?" It was an accusation, not a question. She had this strong suspicion that Mal _knew _that this was a double edged sword.

Seeing his shocked expression, she knew she was right.

Zoey continued, determination fueling her to move forward. "This life is a life worth fighting for, and I _know _he knows this. He beat you once, he's going to—"**  
><strong>

In an instant, Mal yanked on Zoey's wrist and pulled her close. With his free hand, he took out the bulge in his pocket, revealing a small sphere. Pressing the button on it, green gas immediately fizzled out and enveloped the two of them.

The moment Zoey breathed in, she could feel her body shutting down. "Sl—Sleeping gas..." she yawned out.

"Nighty night, Zoey," he sneered, eyes drooping down. "I'm having a little _chat _with your little knight. Sweet dreams from the Mountain King."

But as they both collapsed, Zoey's last sight was Mal's wicked face and those demonic bagged eyes that cursed her living being.

In that moment, she knew she was looking at a nightmare.


End file.
